105 A Job to Die for
by lilaclove
Summary: Part of the Psychfic Virtual Season, but you don't need to read that to read this. One of Shawn's former teachers commits suicide, but not is all as it seems. Will he and Gus be able to figure out what is going on when they are not officially on the case?
1. Is There and Echo in Here?

**Title:** A Job to Die for

**Author:** Green Randomness

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Mystery (Part of the psych fic virtual season)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize

**Author's Note:** This is technically part of the Psychfic Virtual Season, but you don't really need to follow that to read this. I'll inform you of anything you need to know pertaining to a chapter in the author's note...so read it and you should be fine (I can only think of one thing anyways, and I'll tell you that in the next chapter most likely) I do suggest that you read the Psychfic Virtual Season though, all of the authors so far are fabulous at what they do. :)

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**Chapter 1-Is There an Echo in Here?**

_1987_

A young Shawn Spencer walked into his first class of the day with his eyelids still heavy, and his sight blurry. Given his tired state, he barely noticed his teacher, Mr. Mathis, seated at his normal spot in the front of the room

"Why are you here so early, Shawn?" The man asked as he put a black velvet box down on his desk and pushed his circular glasses up.

Shawn glanced at the clock above his teacher's head and groaned. It was only seven o'clock; he was at school an entire hour early. "My alarm clock must be broken…I thought it was 8." Shawn grumbled, glaring at the seven as if it had just destroyed his life.

"It never hurts to be a little early." Mr. Mathis mused, trying to suppress a grin, but it didn't last long. His eyes twinkled brightly in his young face when he smiled a few moments later.

"A 'little' is fine, but an hour…an hour is definitely not okay." Shawn complained, plopping his books down on a desk. He was going to have to do something about his alarm clock when he got home. 'Something' meaning throw it out a window so that it smashes into thousands of tiny pieces.

He had walked all the way here an hour early. Most days, he and Gus would walk together, but his friend had never shown up at their meeting place. Shawn had just assumed that he was sick or something, but as it turns out Shawn was immensely early.

"No one comes to school an hour early…" Shawn grumbled, glower at the clock again before looking at his brown haired teacher, "...except for you." Shawn realized, his voice curious. "Most teachers don't get here 'til later. Why're you here so early?" He asked, walking over to the teacher's desk.

"I just needed to think about things." His seventh grade English teacher responded. "The school is normally relatively quiet this early in the morning."

"Sorry. For ruining your...uh...thinking time." Shawn responded, but before he could say more the black box caught his eye. "What's that?"

"This?" His teacher asked, picking up the small velvet box from his desk. "It's an engagement ring." The man explained as he opened the box to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.

"It's beautiful." Young Shawn replied, his eyes wide. "Who's it for."

"My girlfriend, Jenifer." He smiled, his cheeks dimpling like a child's. "I'm going to propose tonight."

"Oh, I didn't know you had one." Shawn said, looking up. He had never even thought of what his teacher's personal life was like. Honestly, he had never really wanted to know, but it was way better then hearing about his parents' personal lives. That was just wrong.

"We met about a year ago, when she was moving into the apartment across from mine." He smiled again, "I helped her with a big box she was carrying, and…well, you can kind of guess the rest."

"That's weird." Shawn replied, his voice hiding a smile.

"What is?"

"I thought teachers lived at school." Shawn supplied with a straight face. Only seconds later, a grin broke through, and he started to laugh. Mr. Mathis's cheeks dimpled again as his laughter joined Shawn's. Maybe being early wasn't such a bad thing.

* * *

_Present_

Shawn grinned as Gus glared at him fiercely.

"Where are we going?" Gus asked for the third time that morning. The first had been when Shawn had jumped onto Gus's sleeping form, at six in the morning mind you, jubilantly declaring 'Time to get up sleepy head, places to go, people to see!'

He hadn't even had time to ask Shawn how he had gotten into his apartment before he was pushed out of the building. It had seemed like only seconds before they were in the car and on their way.

"It's a surprise." Shawn replied happily, not even looking at Gus.

"Shawn." Gus groaned. Why couldn't the man just give him a straight answer?

"Someone's sounding a little grumpy." He replied, his tone light, and his eyes sparkling.

"You kidnapped me at 6:30 on a Saturday, stole my car, and won't tell me where we are going. Of course I'm 'grumpy'!" Gus cried throwing his hands in the air.

"Okay, I see your point." Shawn responded, his voice serious. "We are going to school."

"What?" Gus asked, puzzled, as Shawn turned a corner.

"To. School." He repeated slowly, suppressing his smile in an attempt to stay serious.

"I heard what you said, I want to know what you mean." Gus growled unhappily, glaring once more at his friend.

"You'll see." The 'psychic' replied in a singsong voice as he stopped at a stoplight happily, which was strange in itself. No one stops at stoplights happily.

"See what?" Gus asked, looking at Shawn's amazingly cheery self. 'People should not be that happy in the morning,' Gus silently mused, 'it's just wrong on so many levels'

"Where we are going." Shawn answered, slowing down as a car pulled out of a parking lot ahead of him.

"Where _are_ we going?" His friend questioned again, looking out the window to the slightly familiar scenery. He recognized the area, but he couldn't quite place what was there.

"Is there an echo in here?" Shawn wondered aloud, glancing with wide eyes at the interior of the car. "…A slightly reworded echo that—"

"Shawn!" Gus interrupted, knowing that the fake psychic would ramble for hours on end if he let him.

"I didn't know your car was so spacious, Gus. That's truly impressive. Few cars are big enough to produce an echo."

"It's way to early for this." Gus groaned, sliding down in his seat so that his head was below the headrest, "I surrender."

"Good, you lasted waaaaaaaay longer than I expected." Shawn replied, sneaking a peak at Gus's petulantly slouched form out of the corner of his eye.

Gus sighed, not even bothering to grace Shawn with a response. A moment later, he tiredly slipped even further down in his seat, but his slumped position didn't last long. Seeing a group of brick buildings come into view, he sat up just in time to read the sign declaring their destination, "University of California, Santa Barbara." He stated slowly, seconds later he voiced his confusion, "A college?"

"Yep." His friend replied, driving slowly down the road as he passed hoards of students on the sidewalk.

"Shawn, why are we at a college?" Gus inquired, completely straightening in his seat so that he could see the campus.

"I'm here to congratulate a friend." The fake psychic answered lightly, giving his friend the first straight answer of the day.

They neared the main office building in a minute or two, and as Shawn was parking he saw two police cars and an ambulance near one of the other buildings. Shrugging, he got out of the car quickly and waited for Gus to join him near the large glass doors.

Allowing Gus to enter first, Shawn followed closely behind his friend. Once they were both inside, he tried to shut the door, but a strong wind nearly pulled it from his grip. Tugging sharply, he slammed the door closed, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Deciding to use this sudden popularity to his advantage, Shawn proclaimed loudly, "Hi, I'm looking for Professor Rick Mathis's office."

A redheaded woman behind the front desk stared at both he and Gus for a moment before saying, "His office is in the English and Psychology building. It's two down to the right, but…" She trailed off, realizing they were already gone as the door slammed once more.

* * *

While they were leaving the main office, Gus asked, "Who's Rick Mathis?" 

"A college professor." Responded Shawn evasively, a smile in his voice, and a spring in his step despite the strong winds buffeting him.

Gus glared, fighting against the wind to try and keep up with his friend, "Why are you being so vague today?" He questioned almost angrily. His voice was tinged with annoyance as he slowed down, deciding to no longer attempt such a ridiculously fast pace.

"I…just think your annoyed face is funny." Shawn smirked again, before slowing down to match his companion's steps. As their steps evened out the 'psychic' saw the look on his friends face and realized that he had aggravated Burton Guster to his breaking point.

The aforementioned, feeling a little guilty, explained, "He was my seventh grade English teacher. I read in the news yesterday that he received an award for being the most dedicated faculty member. So…we are here to congratulate him. "

"Were you really that close to him?" Gus asked, remembering Rick Mathis only slightly.

"Nope." Shawn quipped as they reached the double doors of the English building. Pausing outside of them, he looked to his partner in crime solving and continued, "I was just really bored."

Gus rolled his eyes good naturedly, and reached to open one of the doors. Before he could pull it open, hands from the inside pushed the door out to reveal two very familiar police officers.

"Lassie! Jules!" Shawn cried, opening his arms wide as if to hug them.

"You better not hug me, Spencer." Lassiter scowled, causing Shawn to take a step back in mock dismay.

"Shot down." Gus mumbled, grinning when Shawn obviously heard and scoffed in response.

Detective Lassiter, not hearing Gus, crossed his arms and frowned, "Why are you here anyway? We don't need a _psychic_ to tell us that this is a suicide."

"Suicide?" Shawn asked Juliet in confusion, but two paramedics pushing a covered gurney out of the building was all the explanation he needed. Another harsh wind nearly blew the white sheet completely off as they passed him, and they scrambled to fix it. The loud bang caused by the wind slamming the door against the wall barely fazed him as he briefly glimpsed who was under the sheet.

It was Professor Rick Mathis. He looked nothing like Shawn remembered. More lines, graying hair, and a neat bullet hole in his left temple made the man look like a sad imitation of his former self. The blood matting his seventh grade teacher's salt-and-pepper hair was the last thing he saw as the paramedics managed to get everything in order.

As the body was wheeled away, Shawn turned to a slightly green looking Gus and whispered; "I guess I won't be congratulating him any time soon."

**TBC**

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**Author's Note:** Please read and Review I would love you forever if you did...and I would update :) 


	2. The Spirits Seem Awfully Spirited Today

**Title** 105. A Job To Die For

**Author** greenrandomness

**Rating** K+

**Warning **None

**Genre** Mystery/Humor

**Author's Note** Okay well to read this all you really need to know is that Shawn is being investigate by and FBI Agent named Bridger who has a grudge against him because Shawn solved a case that he couldn't. Now Bridger thinks that Shawn was in on all the cases he solved. Karen is reluctent to give Shawn cases because of the investigation because it could put he and the department under further scrutiny. So enjoy, and I hope you like it :)

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**Chapter 2-The Spirits Seem Awfully Spirited Today, Don't They?**

Shawn Spencer watched as his former teacher was placed in an awaiting ambulance, but he wasn't really seeing any of it. His brain was moving a mile a minute as he remembered something insanely important. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even get a sound out something slammed into him with a loud thud, knocking him forward.

Shawn vaguely realized that everyone was staring with wide eyes as he pitched forward and stumbled for a second before the ground rushed up to meet him. He shoved his hands in front of his body in an attempt to break the fall, but it only resulted in scratched palms that had seen more than their fair share of abuse lately.

He barely managed not to face plant as the air was knocked from his lungs. Lying still for a second, gasping, he tried to figure out what had put him in this situation. His back and head felt like he had been hit with a two-by-four, but it seemed unlikely.

He lay their staring at the sidewalk in front of him for a long time, or at least it seemed that way. Time always seems to slow down when you can't breath and your head is buzzing. Trying to fill his lungs again, he realized that lying on his stomach probably wasn't helping matters.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he closed his eyes and rolled himself onto his back. Taking his first deep breath since the fall, Shawn smiled as the cool air filled his lungs. Noise assailed him as the buzzing receded, and he realized that they were talking to him.

"Shawn?" Gus inquired as he stared down at him. Shawn blinked in response, taking the hand that was offered a second later. Once he was standing, he put a hand to the back of his head.

"Are you okay?" Juliet worried with a look of apprehension in her eyes. More so than usual, but considering his recent medical track record, her concern was warranted.

"The vote's still out on that." Shawn smiled slightly and looked around. "What hit me?"

"You should be asking 'who'." Corrected a guilty looking Buzz McNab. "I didn't know you where in front of the door."

"That's okay Buzz, we can't all be psychic." He replied, smiling at the officer. He really would have preferred to not get hit with a door, but no harm done. A bruise here, a bump there, no big deal.

"Thank God." Lassiter sneered before turning to Buzz. "Were you able to get a hold of Mathis's wife?"

"No. The officer who went said there was no one in the house, and that her neighbors haven't seen her all day." McNab answered, shrugging his shoulders. "She's bound to turn up though. According to the couple next door, she is always home by six to make dinner for her family." He explained, about to say something else. Unfortunately, before he could speak again his phone rang and he excused himself. He was gone in a matter of seconds, and that's when it happened.

Shawn started spinning for no reason. He turned in a circle three times before he stopped. With his face to the sun, Shawn blindly exclaimed, "The wife!" Reaching his hands out as if he were trying to catch her, he spoke again, "I'm…I'm seeing her." He squinted, blinking a few times before he pulled his hands back and put them to his head in an attempt to 'focus the spirits'.

"Is she in trouble?" Juliet gasped, her eyes once again troubled, "Hurt?"

"No…it's something else." Shawn replied, closing his eyes dramatically. He put his other hand to his temple and turned away from the sun to face the group.

"Get to the point, Spencer." Lassiter sighed, completely disgusted with Shawn's antics. "We all have things to do today."

"Jenifer. Her name is Jenifer." The 'psychic' concluded anti-climatically, opening his eyes again. He then spread his arms wide and took a bow as if he had been performing for a large audience.

"Seriously? That's it?" Carlton asked incredulously. "The 'spirits' told you her _name_. Her name! We already knew her name!" He exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air.

"What can I say?" Shawn countered, his voice full of false humility. "They thought it was important." He shrugged, trying to hold back a satisfied grin. That 'vision' had no other purpose than to try and piss Lassie off, and it had worked like a charm.

"Shawn, are you sure that's all?" Juliet interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you getting anything else?"

"He's just wasting our time, as usual O'Hara." Lassiter informed her knowledgably. "He has nothing, and do you want to know why?" He paused as if actually waiting for an answer, "He has nothing because there is nothing! It was a suicide, O'Hara, when are you going to realize that he's full of it?"

"Carlton?" Juliet asked her eyes wide with surprise and her hand hovering just above his shoulder, unsure whether to touch him or not. He very rarely let Shawn get to him as badly as he was now, and she was worried how angry he might get.

"O'Hara, he has no right to be here. There is no case, and even if there were he wouldn't be allowed on it. I want him gone, and I want him gone now." Santa Barbara Police Department's head detective declared vehemently.

"Wait!" Shawn yelled suddenly, looking down at his hands. They began to shake seemingly moving on their own accord as they began to touch everyone. First Gus, who had his slightly scruffy head rubbed by the possessed hands, then Jules who was almost knocked over as Shawn's hands grabbed her left foot. "The spirits, they're trying to tell me something." He whispered dropping Juliet's foot in favor of feeling Lassiter's face.

"This is ridiculous!" Carlton yelled, promptly pushing Shawn away. Shawn continued to back up seemingly being pulled by some unknown force as his hands roamed first his own shoulders and then his t-shirt covered stomach.

"Uh…Shawn?" Gus whispered, wondering where exactly his friend was going with this 'vision'. "Are the spirits being a little more…spirited than usual today?

Suddenly, Shawn's right hand grabbed a red pen from his best friends breast pocket while his left reached into his own back pocket to produce a newspaper clipping. He looked at each hand in confusion as they started coming closer together. Shutting his eyes, he stumbled towards Juliet and put the newspaper clipping on her back.

His eyes flew open as he started to write with fast jerky strokes, "No!" He cried, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to pull his hand from the paper, "No! That can't be right." He whispered as he finally managed to pry his hand from the paper and the paper from Jules's back.

"What does it say?" Gus asked, playing along and honestly a little impressed with Shawn's performance. His friend didn't respond, he only held up the newspaper clipping to reveal the word 'MURDER' written harshly in red on its backside.

"You're truly desperate aren't you?" Lassiter moaned, rolling his eyes. "There's no evidence of foul play. The gun, which was his own private firearm by the way, had his fingerprints all over it." He explained, gesturing widely.

"That doesn't necessarily mean he did it." Gus defended. "It's happened before."

"There's _no_ evidence whatsoever of a struggle! He doesn't have a single mark on him besides the hole in his skull!" The man continued getting even more agitated, his face getting redder as his frustration increased.

"He could have been attacked from behind." Juliet added, but when Carlton's searing gaze landed on her she looked away. "…Or not, that works too." She mumbled.

"The door was locked from the inside for Christ's sake!" The detective concluded, his face red, and a vein in his temple doing the Cha-Cha. "Give it up already, all of you." He growled, glaring at each of them.

"He's right handed." Shawn mumbled, a glazed look in his eyes.

"What?" Lassiter exhaled, his vein still dancing, and his face still read, but his voice slightly calmed by confusion.

"Mathis was right handed." He repeated again in a monotone voice, his eyes unfocused and seemingly unseeing.

"Mathis was shot on the left side of his head." Juliet realized, her eyes brightening with comprehension. Shawn had to force himself to not look at her when she spoke. He loved the look she got on her face when she figured something out, and adoring stares do not convincing visions make.

"Why would he shoot himself in his left temple if he was right handed?" Gus wondered, as he too realized that Shawn might be right. Mathis might have been murdered.

"You don't have any proof of that." Lassiter scowled. "You can't possibly know which hand was his dominate one."

Shawn shook his head, snapping himself out of his vision before beginning to smile enigmatically. He looked at his scrawl on the newspaper article again, staring at it thoroughly for second. Flipping it over, he studied the black and white picture on the back for even less time before handing it over to Lassiter.

"Still doesn't mean anything." Carlton argued staring at the picture of Mathis clearly writing on a chalkboard with his right hand. The Caption below it read, 'Professor Rick Mathis of UCSB is set to receive the school's highest honor of Most Dedicated this Friday at the annual Appreciation Banquet'. "He could be ambidextrous."

"Suuuuuuuuuure." Shawn mumbled earning himself another glare from his favorite Head Homicide Detective at the SBPD.

"You know we'll have to investigate this." Juliet told him as she too looked at the picture, "We can't rule it as a suicide with this evidence."

"_Fine_." He growled, throwing the newspaper clipping back at Shawn. "I'll call the chief." He pulled out his phone and dialed Karen's number as Shawn watched the paper float halfway to the ground before being swept away by the wind.

* * *

Karen's office phone rang as she walked back into the room. Striding purposefully to it, she picked it up and said, "Vick." 

"Chief." Lassiter's voice coldly responded. "The Mathis Case is no longer a definite suicide. We'll have to investigate further."

"Does the wife think there is foul play?" The chief inquired as she sat down in her amazingly comfortable pregnancy chair. She may not have been pregnant anymore, but considering the late hours she sometimes worked, the chair was still a necessity.

"No, we haven't located her yet. _Spencer_," Lassiter paused, his annoyance barely restrained, "had a 'vision'."

In the background Karen heard something along the line of, 'I have proof too!', which was quickly followed by Carlton covering up the mouthpiece and probably saying some very rude things. Ignoring whatever may have been going on, she focused on the real issue.

"Why is Mr. Spencer there, detective?" She asked, rubbing the skin between her eyebrows to try and ease her growing headache.

"I haven't the slightest idea." Lassiter replied, "He just showed up when we were wheeling out the body.

Karen once again heard Shawn's voice, 'The spirits lead me here Chief! I'm meant to be on this case!"

"Hand him the phone, detective." She ordered, her voice calm. "Let me talk to him." A couple silent seconds followed before she heard the 'psychic's' voice.

"Good morning, Chief. I could hear you when you where talking to Lassie, and I must say you sound amazingly lovely today." Shawn babbled his voice cheery, sickly sweet, and almost unbearable given her headache.

"Nice try, Mr. Spencer, but I don't have time for your games today." She replied, a small smile on her face despite her words. "Why are you there?"

"The Spirits lead me hear chief. They want me to solve the case!" Shawn cried, his voice passionate. "I know that Bridger is still investigating me, but the Cosmos wants me to do this!"

"The Cosmos?" She responded skeptically, but her resolve was wavering slightly. 'He hasn't been wrong yet.' Her heart reasoned, but her brain argued 'There's so much more at stake now if he is wrong.' making the decision almost impossible.

"Has the Cosmos ever been wrong, chief?" He pleaded, and she could tell that he was making the puppy-dog face into the phone. "I need to solve this murder."

"Shawn, you know I can't put you on a case until the investigation is over." Karen sighed, rubbing the space between her eyebrows again.

"Then don't put me on the case!" Shawn cried, and she could hear him pacing. "Just let me help with the case. You don't have to pay me or anything." He rambled quickly causing her to sigh again. His enthusiasm was making this way more difficult than it should have been.

"Why do you want this case so badly, Mr. Spencer?" Chief Vick asked, picking up a pen from her desk and rolling it between her fingers, "Why is this one so important."

"I need this, chief." He replied, his tone ardent. "The spirits lead me here for a reason. You have to give me this case."

"Fine." She decided, her voice soft.

"Yes!" He yelled loudly into the phone, "Thank you! I love you; in fact love itself is not potent enough to describe my feelings for you. I love, love you!"

"Mr. Spencer, if there is one time during your employment at the station that you listen to me, let it be now." Karen intoned, her voice stern. "You are not officially on this case. You are there to assist in any way you can, but if you do anything stupid you are gone in an instant."

"I understand." Shawn agreed soberly, but she could still hear the joy in his voice slipping through.

"You are not to do any investigating on your own. You will be with one of the detectives anytime you are near a crime scene or suspect." She paused, taking a deep calming breath. "If there is even a _single_ complaint about you, you're done, and I mean it."

* * *

"Really, you can count on me." He reassured her, inserting as much sincerity as he could into the words. 

"Promise me that you'll stay out of trouble." Vick ordered, her voice seeming tired and strained from this conversation alone.

As the other's watched, Shawn agreed, "I promise." Gus was the only one that saw his crossed fingers.

**TBC**

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**Author's Note** Please read and review :) 


	3. The Sight Or Something Like It

**Title:** A Job to Die for

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Mystery/Humor

**Author's Note:** Here you guys go...pretty much the only info you need is that in the Virtual Season Shawn has had quite a few brushes with death and very dangerous people, and that there is a prank war going on at the station (When Lassiter talks about the pranks pulled on him, that is what he is talking about.)

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything that is original to the shows creators, or any of the central ideas of the Psychfic Virtual Season

* * *

**Chapter 3- 'The Sight' Or Something Like it**

Handing the phone back to Lassiter, Shawn held up his fist to Gus. In return all he received was a disapproving stare.

"What?" He asked, his eyes wide. "Is there something on my face?" In response Gus grabbed his arm and dragged him away from Carlton who was talking to the chief and Juliet who was looking over some notes on the case.

Once they where well out of the two detectives' hearing range, Gus crossed his arms and whispered, "You can't be serious, Shawn."

"Of course I'm not serious, Gus. You know I'm never serious." His friend replied easily, patting him on the shoulder.

"You just lied right to Chief Vick's face." He scolded quietly, his face grim and disbelieving. He couldn't believe Shawn could so blatantly lie to her. Sure, he lied about being psychic, but she had made him promise not to interfere with the case.

"Totally did not." Shawn replied also crossing his arms.

"Did." Gus responded huffily, his voice louder than a whispered.

"Didn't" Shawn singsonged happily, glancing over at Lassiter who was closing his phone unhappily.

"Shawn! You did!" He argued no longer caring how loud he was. If Shawn was going to lie the least he could do was be honest about it.

"Totally didn't, dude. Her face is at least a half an hour away." The psychic grinned, and then turned away from his disgruntle friend. "Lassie!" He called walking back over to the detective confidently.

"Shawn, you have no intention of following her orders!" Gus whispered again, following with annoyance as they neared the detectives.

"When have I ever?" Shawn replied softly over his shoulder only seconds before he reached his favorite Irish detective. "You must be pretty excited, detective. I understand why of course." He continued pretending his conversation with Gus had never happened.

"What?" Carlton asked incredulously his eyes wide and his phone still held in his hand.

"We get to work together again!" The fake psychic exclaimed throwing his hands in the air happily. "I know you missed our camaraderie and teamwork."

"I think you've been watching too many cop movies." Lassiter scoffed,

"We missed you too, Lassie." Shawn looked at Gus, "Didn't we, Timmy?"

"Sure did, Paul." Gus replied a few seconds later, once he had realized that Shawn was referencing the 1960's 'Lassie' series. He couldn't stay mad at Shawn forever, right? Sure he had lied to Chief Vick, but Shawn never listened to what she said. He couldn't be mad at him for being consistent, could he?

"You aren't officially on the case, Spencer." Lassiter told him in annoyance, looking at his phone begrudgingly before putting it in his pocket.

"Close enough right?" He asked, smiling. "I really haven't gotten to spend as much time with you lately, Lassie. We really shouldn't let technicalities keep us apart." Shawn expounded his eyes bright; Gus nodded in agreement beside him.

"Let's just get this over with." Carlton sighed as he opened the door to the building.

"To the crime scene!" Shawn yelled, his finger pointed in the air dramatically. His stance swiftly flowed into a bow as he saw O'Hara begin to follow the detective. Opening the door from his still bowed position he declared, "Ladies first."

"Thanks, Shawn." She smiled, walking in happily as she followed Carlton.

Gus waited next to Shawn as Juliet went through; he then turned to his friend in an attempt to ask a question. Unfortunately, Shawn spoke first.

"That means you too Gus." He added standing up from his humble position. "They don't call you Burton 'Twinkle Toes' Guster for nothing, after all."

"They _don't_ call me that." Gus replied, walking in anyway, his head held high.

"I do, and you know deep down you like it." Shawn goaded, closing the door.

"Whatever, Shawn." He rolled his eyes and kept walking, keeping his pace fast so that he could reach the two detectives. Maybe he could stay mad at him forever.

"Gus? Gus?" Shawn called, still standing by the door. "You know I didn't mean it right?" He yelled as the man turned a corner. Glancing to the left and right he threw up his hands and ran after his best friend.

* * *

"Carlton?" Juliet questioned as they opened the door to Mathis's office. 

"Yes, O'Hara?" The detective answered as he ducked under the crime scene tape and walked in.

"Why were you so hard on, Shawn earlier today?" She asked as she too ducked. "You normally aren't that…mean to him."

"It's nothing." He mumbled as he started looking over the room again. "It's just to early to deal with him."

"Carlton." She voiced again, coming to stand next to him. "You've dealt with him earlier than this. We all have…remember last month when he went to a different officer's house every night? He showed up in everyone's front yards at three in the morning and threw rocks at our windows just to see who was sleeping and who wasn't."

"Good point." He conceded, looking the bookcase over, but still not really answering her.

"Well?" Juliet asked, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "I'll keep asking until you tell me."

"I'll file a formal complaint to the chief." He countered, with his back still facing her, seemingly perusing the books on the shelf.

"No you won't." O'Hara gambled, metaphorically holding her breath as she asked, "Why were you so tough on him today?"

"I'm worried about him, Okay." Carlton confessed, turning around to face her. "Do you realize how many times he's almost gotten himself killed recently?"

"Oh." She mumbled uncrossing her arms and glancing out the door, "I didn't even think…"

"You didn't even _think_ I cared, O'Hara. I know." He ground out almost angrily, but his eyes were sad. "I don't want his blood on my hands."

"It's not that, Carlton…it's…it's just that he's been in danger ever since he started working for us. Why is it bothering you so much now?" Juliet wondered aloud, still surprised. She worried about Shawn all the time, but Lassiter had never been so vocal about his doubts before now.

"It seems like the stakes have been upped somehow by the investigation. I don't know whether it is coincidence or if there is something else going on, but he's had way to many close calls lately." The detective continued, turning around again to examine the room.

"Carlton, I—"

"If there's more going on, I want him and Guster as far away as possible." He explained glancing back at her. "They won't be casualties to one of my cases."

"Hello there detectives!" Shawn exclaimed happily interrupting anything Juliet was about to say as he ducked under the police tape. "Sorry about the wait, my partner and I had matters to discuss."

Gus who was pulled next to Shawn as he entered the room, smiled and replied, "Shawn was trying to convince me that flamingo-ing your yard would be a good idea."

"I was not!" Shawn replied indignantly as he began to look around the room, "You know I'm more mature than that." He seemingly pouted as he noticed something that looked like blood on the corner of the desk.

"You sent me glitter and a pink horse, superglued everything to my desk, and covered me with sugar. Flamingo-ing doesn't seem below you in the slightest." Lassiter retorted barely even looking away from the papers he was looking at on the desk.

"Really, Lassie, I'm offended." Shawn paused looking shocked. "I would never—Oh God!" He yelled grabbing his head as if in pain. "The spirits! They're trying to contact me!" He exclaimed as he started to shake.

"Not again." Carlton moaned taking a step back from the convulsing man so as not to become a part of his 'vision'.

"Blood! What blood?" He asked himself, his eyes still closed. "I'm seeing blood!" He exclaimed squeezing his eyes shut tighter as he moved his fingers to his temples.

"So am I, Spencer." Lassiter interjected mimicking the 'psychic's' pose.

Shawn opened his eyes wide, his fingers still in place, "You too detective? I didn't know you had _the sight_."

"There's a large pool of it right next to you." Carlton deadpanned, dropping his hands. "The 'spirits' are a little slow today, aren't they?" He asked, air quotes and all.

Shawn looked shocked as he whispered, "Good going Lassie! Now the spirits are offended." He closed his eyes again, and tilted his head towards the ceiling, "Please forgive him, he knows not what he says. Show me O wise beings, show me where the blood is." Shawn pleaded to himself as his right hand dropped from his head.

It seemed to move around the room on its own as it searched for the evidence. First it pointed to the pool of blood staining the floor near the desk. The already dark mahogany was almost blackened in the areas where the blood had already dried.

Then Shawn began to spin around in a clockwise circle, his arm held aloft, his finger pointing. He went in a complete circle and had just past the bloody floor again when suddenly his wavered towards the left. He stumbled slightly, his arm shaking, as it finally chose its destination. He was pointing at the desks front right corner.

"The desk!" Gus exclaimed, also pointing to the corner as if he too had heard the spirits message to Shawn.

Lassiter took a step closer, avoiding the blood on the floor as he studied the desk. Crouching down, he examined the corner and the dried blood that Shawn had predicted. "Blood." He monotoned before taking a step back. "We'll have to call forensics back here to get a sample."

Juliet walked closer, examining the two polished wooden chairs in front of the desk. The first was on the left hand side of the desk. It was perfectly straight as if someone had spent hours making sure it was totally aligned with the desk.

The chair on the right, the one closest to the bloodied corner was crooked, as if it had been bumped into. She carefully moved in front of the chair so that she could see its arms. The right one had a noticeable scratch in its otherwise perfect finish.

"This chair has a scratch on it, and it seems to have been bumped in to." Juliet announced as she turned to Lassiter, waiting to see what he thought.

"It looks like there was a struggle of some sort, or—." He mused, standing up from his crouched position as the fake psychic interrupted him.

"It's murder." Shawn supplied, grinning cockily.

"Or a student hit the chair, and the blood is from when Mathis shot himself." Carlton finished smugly, taking a step back and looking around the room again.

"Mur—der!" Gus whispered from his place next to Shawn in an attempt to back his friend up.

"We'll see." The detective replied, after a beat he turned back to Juliet and said, "Call the station and have forensics come back down here."

"Got it." She replied, pulling out her own phone and stepping out of the room to make the call.

"So…what do we do now?" Shawn asked as he started looking around the room again.

"You two are going to get out of this room and stay out of the way." Lassiter informed him happily as he put a hand on both of their shoulders and steered them towards the door.

"Lassie, you can't do this to us. You know you need us." Shawn implored as they were shoved under the tape and out the door. They both turned around almost simultaneously in an attempt to get back in.

"Shawn found the other blood." Gus reasoned, pointing at his friend eagerly.

"Yeah! My psychic-ness just found crucial evidence. I think I deserve to stay." He declared, trying to look around Carlton's form in the doorway.

"Sorry, Spencer." Lassiter grinned, "You aren't officially on this case." And reached across them to shut the door in their faces.

"Now what?" Gus asked as he stared at the dark wood in front of him.

"Now, we go find out more about the professor." Shawn smirked impishly and ran down the hall with Gus not a step behind him.

**TBC**

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**Author's Note:** Please review :)


	4. Meriwether and Clark Teach Psychology

**Title:** A Job to Die for

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Mystery/Humor

**Author's Note:** I don't think I have anything to say for this one...so enjoy :D

**Disclaimer:** Don't own :(

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**Chapter 4- Meriwether Lewis and Clark Clark Teach Psychology**

"Good morning class!" Shawn exclaimed cheerily as he breezed into the student filled classroom. It had posters on the walls displaying diagrams of the brain, various psychological disorders, and other similar topics. The bookshelves were filled with books bearing names like 'Emotions and the Human Brain' and 'Understanding mental disorders'. Both of these characteristics supported the fact that this was a psychology class.

"Who are you?" A young man with long blonde hair asked. He was front row center, and had no books with him. In fact, no one in the class did.

"I'm your substitute for the day." Shawn explained as he and Gus stood in the front of the class.

"What happened to Professor Mathis?" A brunette girl with glasses asked from the third row.

"We heard there were cops in his office." Another voice called from the back.

"Did something happen to him?" A short redheaded teen inquired loudly from the left hand side of the room.

"Nothing to worry about. He's just dead…tired and asked me to fill in for him. It was short notice, but what can I say? We go way back." The psychic continued trying not to laugh at the face Gus had made when he'd seemingly slipped up.

"What about the cops?" Another faceless voice questioned.

"Some one broke into his office last night." Gus supplied smoothly as he sat down on the edge of the professor's desk. "The police are looking for any clues the culprit may have left behind."

"Right." Shawn agreed, walking to the board. "On to today's lesson."

"Who are you anyway?" The brunette in the third row spoke up again. "You haven't even told us your names."

"I was just getting to that actually." He replied picking up a piece of chalk. For a second he stood there and then he started writing, "I am Professor Meriwether Lewis." He informed them as he wrote, "and that fine man sitting on the desk is Clark…uh Clark."

"Clark Clark?" A bored student inquired, looking up from his desk for the first time.

"His parents were cruel, cruel people." Shawn whispered loudly once he had finished writing their 'names' on the bored. Shawn waited for their various noises of understanding quieted down before continuing, "I would have change my name if I were you, Clark."

"Your name isn't all that normal either, Meriwether." Gus scoffed in mock indignation as he stood up from the desk.

"As I was saying." Shawn replied, smiling at the class. "On to the lesson. We are going to do a little exercise. Professor Clark and I will ask a question, and then we will choose one of you to answer it." The students once again were quite vocal in their responses, and after they had quieted down he asked, "What was Professor Mathis like?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Asked the blonde teen in the front row, his eyebrows rose in confusion as he waited.

"It's an exercise…since you asked, you can answer." Gus told him from his place beside Shawn.

"He was pretty cool. A good teacher…school was pretty much his life." The blonde replied, looking around as the rest of the students agreed with him.

"He practically lived here." The redhead added running a hand through his hair, "He was here all the time."

"Did he have any enemies, anyone who would want to hurt him?" Gus asked raising an eyebrow, and looking around the room.

"Why?" A blue haired Asian looking girl asked. "That's a really weird question."

"Exercise." Shawn replied without looking up from the chalk, which he was examining closely. "You can answer the question though." He decided, placing the white cylinder very close to his eyes as if he were a prospector inspecting a diamond.

"Uh…Professor Westen from across the hall. They've never gotten along. He got pretty pissed when Professor Mathis became the head of the department." The blue haired girl explained bewilderment still written across her face.

"What are his office hours?" Shawn asked as he set the chalk on the desk and then pointed to a teen with spiked black hair and a small stud in his left ear. "You."

"3-5 today…" He answered, looking at the pair as if they were slightly crazy.

"Where's his office?" Gus asked before pointing to another student as he began walking up and down the rows of tables.

"Down the hall to the right from Professor Mathis's…but what does this have to do with anything?" The young woman asked, her blue eyes shining with impatience.

"This…is a study I have been working on." Shawn decided, "It…it is an attempt to predict how people will respond to a series of semi-related questions." He lied, picking up the chalk and setting it down by the board where it belonged.

"What does that have to do with English?" A voice asked from the back of the room.

"This is a psychology class…" Gus stated, stopping next to the student who had spoken. It was a girl with black hair and tan skin wearing a light pink long sleeve shirt.

"No it's not." She informed him, crossing her arms as her brown eyes stared at him.

"It said psychology on the door!" Exclaimed Shawn from the front of the room. "Everything in this room is psychology themed."

"Our classroom is being repainted. We're just borrowing this one." The blonde in the front row informed him.

"Oh." Shawn and Gus both replied at the same time as they looked at each other from across the room.

"What class is this then?" Gus asked the room as he walked back towards Shawn, completely aware of the eyes staring at him.

"Modern Literature." An African American teen sitting next to the blonde enlightened them, rolling his eyes at their surprised faces.

"Why don't you have any books, then?" Shawn asked in a superior tone, thinking he had caught them. Students where suppose to try and prank their subs, maybe this was just a prank.

"This is a discussion class." Echoed throughout the room as nearly the entire class answered the question.

"Uh…On that note, I've decided that our study has come to an end." The fake psychic announced with a sweeping gesture before he ran out of the room. Gus stood there for a second, staring at the accusing and confused eyes in the room, before he ran off after his friend. Passing a janitor mopping the floor, he found a now walking Shawn a little ways down the hall.

"It is now time to check out Westen's office." Shawn Spencer informed Gus as soon as he was beside him.

"Why didn't we just tell them we were with the police?" Gus asked, looking back at the door of the now loud classroom.

"Two reasons." His friend replied, holding up the same number of fingers. He dropped one so that only his index was up and said, "One, I didn't want them to panic." He then put the other up again and continued, "Two, we weren't suppose to be investigating alone."

"Shawn!" Gus exclaimed crossly, "That was one of the chief's orders, wasn't it?"

"It might have been." He replied sheepishly, putting his hand down by his side. "You already knew I wasn't going to follow them."

"So? You still should have told me we where breaking one." The man replied huffily as they walked down the hall. "I want to know next time."

"Okay, okay. From now on I'll tell you every time we are about to break one of her rules." Shawn conceded, putting a hand on his friends shoulder. "I promise."

"No crosses?" Gus asked, looking his friend up and down seriously as if it where a life or death matter.

"None…not even my toes." He swore, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Good." Gus replied, nodding his head. They walked a few more minutes in silence before Shawn spoke again.

"Do you want to know the third reason why I didn't tell them I was with the police?" The fake psychic asked as they turned a corner.

"Sure." He replied looking up from the spot on the floor he had been looking at a second before.

"I've wanted to be Meriwether Lewis ever since Mrs. Garrisons 3rd grade history lessons." Shawn told him, a smile on his face. "The Louis and Clark lesson was the best week of my 3rd grade life."

"Why couldn't you remember William Clark's first name then?" Gus asked as their goal came into sight. He could now see the office door they had been directed to by the students, and truth be told it looked like all of the others.

"I don't think I ever learned it," Shawn mused to himself before turning back to Gus, "I thought Meriwether's name was cooler so I never really paid attention to Clark." He explained when they reached the door bearing Westen's name.

"Gee thanks, Shawn." Gus groaned as he knocked on the hard wood of the door. Leave it to Shawn to make him into the guy he didn't pay attention too. His best friend couldn't even remember the guy's name, and Shawn never forgot anything.

"No answer." Observed the fake psychic before jiggling the handle. "Locked."

"What now?" His friend asked, leaning against the wall, "We're stuck unless you know how to pick locks."

"I _can _pick locks," Shawn grinned looking up and down the hallway to make sure it was clear, "but I know something better." Producing a ring of keys from his back pocket, he smiled, "I know how to pick pockets."

"Where did you get that?" Gus cried, only to be hushed by Shawn.

"Shh, or the janitor I borrowed them from will find us." He whispered as he started to try keys in the lock.

"Shawn!" The man whispered harshly, "You stole that man's keys."

"No I didn't." The fake psychic replied as he tried a couple more keys in the lock.

"Yes. You did."

"I borrowed them. Huge difference." At Gus's skeptical look, he continued, "I'll give them back…later." A click was heard not a moment later, and he smirked "Besides, this is an official police investigation."

"No it's not, we're not _officially_ hired, remember?" Gus reminded his friend as the door was opened.

"True, but we mine as well be. We've figured out more than Lassie could, and he's _officially_ hired." He reasoned, stepping inside after he took another look around the hallway. "Come on, Gus, the coast is clear."

With a sigh, Gus followed, "Fine…but you better give those keys back."

**TBC**

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**Author's Note: **I hope you guys all enjoyed it. Please review! 


	5. There's a Psychic Hiding in the Woodwork

**Title:** A Job to Die For

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:**K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Myster/Humor

**Disclaimer:** I do not Own

**Author's Note:** Here you guys go. I'm going to post this all now, because I am haing surgery tomarrow.

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**Chatper 5- There's a Psychic Hiding in the Woodwork**

Once they were both inside, Shawn quietly closed the door. Looking around, he took in the layout of the room. It was relatively big with bookcases along the walls and a wooden desk in the center. Behind the desk there was a set of windows looking over the lawn, but the view wasn't spectacular due to the room being on the first floor. A third window on the left side of the room sat between two bookshelves.

Shawn, recognizing the layout of the room, thought back to Mathis's office. The two windows in the back of the room, the desk in the center, the book cases along the wall, and a solitary window on the right side of the room. The rooms were mirror images of each other.

"They each must be in a corner of the building." Shawn mumbled, spinning around in a slow circle to take in the room.

"Okay…?" Gus questioned, also looking around the room, "Why is that important."

"I'm not sure yet…" He replied as he stopping spinning and zeroed in on the desk. Seeing an open newspaper on its surface, he walked over to it and ran a finger down the page, obviously looking for something in particular, "Hello…" He murmured as his finger stopped on a very familiar article.

"The award." Gus voiced when he saw that the article was a replica of the one Shawn had produced earlier that day. "Do you think he killed him out of jealousy?"

"Westen hated the professor for being chosen as the head of the English department." Shawn reasoned excitedly as he turned his eyes from the paper to Gus.

"When he lost the Most Dedicated award to the same guy he must have snapped." His partner continued, still looking at the paper. "He couldn't take that Mathis was better than him."

"So-o-o he went to his office that night and shot him!" The psychic exclaimed his eyes bright with understanding, but his normally confident face fall a beat later. "…I guess…" He mumbled, looking to the walls as if they held his answer.

"You guess?" Gus asked, confusion clouding his features. "You're not sure?"

"No." He replied, opening the desk drawer. "There's no evidence. I mean it's a good hunch, but I need something more."

"You've gone on less before." His friend sighed while looking at the calendar on the wall.

"Before, I wasn't be investigated by a McGruff wannabe." Shawn responded half-heartedly as he continued to riffle through the desk.

"McGruff wannabe?" Gus inquired, his eyebrows raised high on his head as he turned back around to face his friend.

"Yeah, you know…the crime fighting dog." He explained barely looking to see Gus's understanding. "I need some evidence. Something I can lead Lassie and Jules too." He mumbled, pulling out a stack of papers.

"Oh…" Gus trailed off, looking around the room again. "Evidence…"

"Class schedule, blank sheet of paper…"Shawn mumbled as he dropped papers on the desks "…student roster, picture of Mathis after he was shot." Shawn continued nonchalantly as if what he had said was the most normal thing in the world

"What? Are you serious?" Gus cried, trying to grab the sheet of paper from his friend's hands.

"No…but you thought I was!" The fake psychic grinned as he dropped the ordinary letter he was holding onto the desk. He then shoved all of the documents he had taken out back into the drawer. "Nothing incriminating in there."

"I can't believe you!" Gus exclaimed in frustration as he punched his friend in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Shawn yelled, about to make a witty comeback when suddenly he seemed to look right past Gus. "CGC."

"What?"

"CGC." He said again staring at the calendar behind Gus, "It says CGC on yesterday's date."

"What does CGC mean?" Gus asked curiously, not having the slightest idea what the letters could mean.

"California Grown Cows?" He guessed in response as he remembered the commercials for California cheese.

"Chicagoan Gnome Castrators?" Gus added, deciding that it was just as likely as 'California Grown Cows'.

"Co—alition…Coalition!" Shawn exclaimed, his brain practically screaming at him in conformation. "Coalition for…what?"

"Coalition for Gun Carrying." Gus guessed, thinking of the bullet wound in Mathis's head with a half suppressed shiver.

"For Gun Control!" Shouted Shawn, the term finally clicking. "The Coalition for Gun Control had a rally yesterday night…Even if he wasn't there, a CGC member wouldn't _shoot _Mathis."

"We don't _know_ that he's a member, Shawn." Gus replied reasonably, "That might mean something else like 'Clean Goat Corner'."

"What's a 'Goat Corner'?" The fake psychic inquired, his hazel eyes wide as if he really wanted to know. Who knows…maybe he did.

"I don't know! I just couldn't think of anything else that had those letters." His partner fumbled, realizing that Shawn would never accept that answer even as it was leaving his mouth.

"I win." Shawn countered, his smile a mile wide, and his voice mischievous.

"No, you don't" Gus sulked, but a second later he conceded, "What do you win?"

"Westen is a member of the Coalition for Gun Control and did not kill Rick Mathis." The man replied, crossing his arms assuredly.

"Just because I can't think of another acronym doesn't mean he's not a murder!" He argued indignantly, also crossing his arms.

"Yes it does."

"Shawn! You're the one who wanted real evidence and this is not—" Gus tried to tell his friend, but a look of slight panic flashed across Shawn's face.

"Shhhh." Shawn interrupted, his face now passive. He put a finger to his own lips as he tilted his head to listen.

"No, Shawn—"

"Be quiet, Gus, someone's coming." He hissed, as he looked around the room frantically. A knock on the hard wooden door reverberated around the room.

"Professor Westen? If you're in there, this is the Santa Barbara PD; we would like to ask you a few questions." A voice that sounded suspiciously like Lassiter's called.

Seeing the window, he shoved Gus behind the heavy curtain and pulled out the bookcase next to it just as the handle turned. Hiding behind the bookcase closest to the door, he waited, hoping to God that the shadows would hide him from view.

The door was pulled open a second later as the two detectives walked in. Shawn could see them from his place behind the bookcase, but he sincerely hoped they could see him.

"No one here." Juliet mussed before turning to Carlton who had started walking towards the desk. "What did the teachers say when you asked about him?"

"Most of them thought he was a good guy, but a few of the other English professors said he had a grudge against Mathis." He replied, as he looked over the surface of the desk carefully.

"Do you think he did it?" O'Hara inquired from behind him, her voice slightly tense. She felt uneasy as if she were being watched, and glanced towards the door.

"It's possible, but I don't think we'll find any proof in here." Lassiter answered as he looked out the windows in the back of the room.

Shawn saw that they where both facing away from the door and he began to sneak towards it with Gus behind him. Shawn saw Lassiter start to turn around; in an instant he pulled himself and Gus against the wall so that the bookcase hid them from the detectives' immediate sight.

"Where is Spencer?" He wondered aloud, looking around the room. He partially expected the 'psychic' to pop out of the woodwork when his name was said.

"I'm not sure. Why do you ask?" Juliet replied as she too looked around the room, still feeling as if she were being watched.

"Normally, he and Guster would have interrupted me by now." He reasoned turning back to look at the desk. Juliet stared at the bookcase closely for a second before she too turned back around.

Shawn and Gus saw their opening and ran for it as quietly as they could. They crept out the still open door with extreme caution while the detectives' backs were turned. Once they were in the hallway they ran as fast as they could, staying with in a foot of each other for about a minute. Shawn suddenly realized that Gus was no longer beside him and stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his friend standing stock still in the hallway.

"Why'd you stop running, dude?" Shawn asked; his eyebrows rising as he saw the shocked look on Gus's face.

"Who're _you_ running from, Spencer?" A familiar voice asked not an inch from him.

The psychic slowly turned around to face the voice and infused his own with fake cheer, "Agent Bridger! It's been waaaaaaaay to long." He replied, his smile wide as he began to walk past the man, "We'd love to stay and chat, _really_ we would, but this isn't a good time. My partner and I are in the middle of…exercising."

**TBC**

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**Author's Note: **Please Review!


	6. Josh Bridger

**Title:** A Job to Die For

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Myster/Humor

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these awesome character's, except for those you do not recognize (discluding Agent Bridger, he is not mine)

**Author's Note:** Enjoy!

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**Chapter 6- Josh Bridger--The FBI's Lease Capable Psychiatric Bloodhound**

"I find that highly unlikely." The agent scoffed while turning to face Shawn's retreating figure.

"For your information, Gus and I are in top physical condition." Shawn argued as he stopped walking and faced the agent.

"Sure you are." Bridger laughed mockingly for a little longer than he should have before his voice died off. His eyes never left Shawn's face as if he were staring him down. Shawn stared back at the man who had caused him so many problems recently, and his eyes turned cold.

"Well, this has been fun." Gus interrupted stepping between the two, "Let's go, Shawn." He hinted in an effort to pull Shawn away from a potentially bad situation. Shawn seemed to snap out of it, and he turned around about to walk away.

"I'm not finished with you yet, Spencer." Bridger's cold voice announced, " I have a few questions to ask you."

Gus watched as his friend stood completely still for a minute, his body tensed in preparation to do something drastic. Right before his eyes, Shawn calmed down and turned around, a smile on his face once again.

"Is one of them about how I do my hair? Because I can't reveal that information." Shawn rambled boisterously. He looked around suspiciously before he whispered "…Trade Secret." with his hand cupped around his mouth.

"No." The man responded in annoyance before he took a deep calming breath and continued, "Actually, I was wondering where you were last night."

"I think that a little bit personal, don't you Agent Bridger?" Shawn retorted in an almost sickly sweet voice.

"No, I don't, Mr. Spencer." Bridger smirked, "I understand you arrived at the scene without being called by your chief?"

"Yes." Shawn drawled, not quite getting the relevance of the question.

"Is it also true that you offered to 'consult' this case for free?" He asked without taking his eyes from Shawn's face.

"It might be." The psychic evaded as he returned Bridger's staring.

"Where were you last—"

"Why do you care, Agent Bridger?" Gus asked tersely, cutting the agent off mid sentence.

"I care, Mr. Guster, because I believe your _friend_ murdered Rick Mathis." The agent stated in a matter of fact tone, much to Gus's astonishment.

"You can't honestly think that Shawn killed his… uh…Rick Mathis" Gus sputtered angrily; nearly forgetting that Shawn being a former student of Mathis wasn't public knowledge.

"His what, Mr. Guster?" Bridger grinned in triumph before looking to the fake psychic, "Did you know Professor Mathis, Shawn? Was he a friend of your father's?" The man guessed, his tone patronizing. "Maybe one of your neighbor's?"

"Um, No…but feel free to keep guessing." Shawn loudly whispered and gave the agent a quick pat on the back. "Maybe someday you'll get close."

"I'll figure out who he was, Psychic." Bridger swore, grabbing Shawn's arm when he tried to walk away, "I'm going to figure out how you do it."

The fake psychic shrugged him off and started walking with Gus at his side. When they were a few steps away, he looked over his shoulder at the agent's glowering form, "You might want to be careful, Bridger." Shawn stated, his voice still light, but the words menacing.

"Oh," The agent replied with forced levity, "and why's that, Mr. Spencer?"

"You wouldn't want Chief Vick to find out how bad of a boy you've been, would you?" He mocked, his voice an almost perfect match to Bridger's earlier tauntings.

They didn't wait for a response; in only seconds Shawn and Gus had walked to the end of the hall and had turned the corner. Deciding that they needed some air, Shawn directed them outside. Squinting into the eleven o'clock sun, he nearly groaned as he realized how long they had been working non-stop.

He was about to suggest getting some lunch to Gus when he spotted Buzz McNab stopping a woman who was about to go into the building they had just left. She had graying brunette hair and a pretty although lined face. His interest piqued, Shawn gestured to his friend and started to walk over to the pair.

"Jenifer Mathis?" Buzz questioned, his voice more serious than usual.

"Yes?" She replied, her face startled and her voice slightly uneven.

"My name is Officer Buzz McNab. I'm with the SBPD." He informed her, "We have been trying to contact you all day, but we receive no answer at your home."

"I've been out most of the day." She replied softly before her eyes widened, "Has something happened to Richard?"

"Yes ma'am, I'm sorry to inform you that your husband was found dead in his office this morning." McNab sympathized, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh my God. I didn't know…He didn't come home last night…" She whispered, her eyes starting to tear. "I just…I just thought he had fallen asleep at his desk again. So, I-I came to take him out to lunch." Mrs. Mathis sobbed.

"I'm really sorry." Shawn told her sincerely as he and Gus finally came closer.

"Who " She took a deep shuddering breath. " are you?"

"My name is Shawn Spencer, I also work for the police." The fake psychic informed her, and he really wished he could tell her that he knew her husband. Unfortunately, with Buzz around he couldn't. He wouldn't even be aloud near this case if the chief found out about his being Mathis's former student. Normally, she might not have been too strict about it, but with Bridger on his case, knowing the victim was not a good thing.

"Oh…"She mumbled, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks. "Is there an investigation going on?"

"Yes," McNab replied, his eyes sympathetic. "Your husband was murdered."

"Murdered." She tensed, her eyes bulging with surprise, "I just thought he had…you know…done it himself." She cried, her eyes brimming over with water.

"Why did you think that?" Gus asked, his eyebrows raised and his arms crossed.

"He's been very depressed lately. I just thought…" She paused, wiping another drop from her cheek, "Are you sure he was murdered?"

"It's been confirmed that it wasn't a suicide, and there is no chance that it was natural causes, ma'am." Buzz told her in an understanding tone. He knew that people often had difficulty accepting that someone would want to kill their loved ones.

"Murdered…I can't believe it." She moaned as she ran a hand emotionally through her hair. It stopped midway through and she gasped, "Oh God. What will I tell the kids?" She started to sob again, her eyes red with emotion, and her face filled with grief.

"We're going to have you answer a few questions at the station, Okay?" Buzz proposed, slightly uncomfortable with her immense grief. He felt like he was witnessing sadness that no one was suppose to see.

"Why?" Jenifer asked, her voice shrill.

"We need to know if he had any enemies, or anyone who would want to hurt him." He supplied, his voice grim at the prospect of anyone wanting to murder this poor woman's husband.

"Oh." She sniffed, "Is there some place I could calm down?" She asked, her eyes tearing again. "Before I go to the station?"

"Of course." Buzz assured her, his voice calm and comforting, "Shawn, could you take her to an empty classroom or something?" He inquired, turning to the psychic. "I have to tell the detectives that we found her."

"Yeah, no problem." Shawn smiled sadly in response and was about to start walking.

"Stay with her." McNab whispered before he could move, and he nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Right this way, Mrs. Mathis." The psychic told her as he and Gus led her inside the building. They brought her to an empty History classroom, and after showing her inside Shawn jerked his head towards the door so that only Gus could see.

"We'll be right outside." Gus assured her as they began walking out. He felt bad leaving her alone, but maybe it was the best thing. She needed time to calm down and collect herself.

"If you need anything, just ask." Shawn explained right before he closed the door. As soon as it was closed he started walking, only to be pulled back by his best friend's hand on his arm.

"Aren't we supposed to stay with her?" He questioned, his arms crossed in disapproval.

"I have to see Mathis's office again." Shawn explained in lieu of a real answer as he started to walk again.

"But—" Gus began, only to be cut off by another voice.

"Spencer." Bridger's cold voice called from down the hallway.

"Not again." Shawn groaned as his shoulders dropped. "We should have been gone already."

"Do you think we should run for it?" Gus asked, his voice low.

"He's already seen us, he'd chase us down like a blood hound." Shawn whispered, as the man got closer. "It'd be best just to wait it out."

"Right." Gus responded, about to say more, but the agent was too close now for speech.

"Hey, Josh!" Shawn grinned, his hands leisurely in his pockets as he stood in front of the History classroom door. "Anything new going on?"

"What are you up to, psychic?" Bridger ground out. He knew something was up, the way they had been whispering before he got close, and how the 'psychic' was blocking the door gave it away.

"Nothing." Shawn almost shouted, his eyes shifting back and forth as Gus came and stood in front of the door with him. "But, I really don't think you should go in there."

"Why not?" Agent Bridger asked with his arms crossed and a single eyebrow raised.

"Because." Gus replied, looking away as the agent tried to make eye contact with him.

"Because doesn't seem to be on my list of good reasons, Mr. Guster." The man replied as he pushed him out of the way.

"I see no list, Josh." Shawn responded before he too was pushed out of the way.

"You really shouldn't." Gus assured him as Bridger put his hand on the doorknob, but the man disregarded him. The agent stormed into the room and saw Mrs. Mathis crying.

"What is this, Spencer?" He asked through clenched teeth.

Shawn, who was standing in the open doorway, turned his gaze to the crying woman and announced, "Mrs. Mathis. This is Agent Bridger, he is a psychiatrist with the department."

"What?" Bridger half yelled, his eyes wide, "What the Hell are you talking about, Psychic?"

In response, Shawn shoved the man farther into the room, and watched as Jenifer grabbed him and started crying into his shoulder. He closed the door quietly, grabbed Gus, and once again ran off. Bridger's yells could be heard echoing in the building throughout their entire journey to professor Mathis's office.

**TBC**

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**Author's Note:** Please Review :)


	7. Pantomining Death Sounds Like Fun Right?

**Title:** A Job to Die for

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Mystery/Humor

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything you recognize

**Author's Note:** Here you go :)

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**Chapter 7- Pantomining Death...Sounds like Fun, Right?**

The members of the Psych agency quietly walked closer to the door. Once they were next to it, Shawn placed his ear against the wood. "They're gone." He whispered to Gus, as he opened the door and slipped inside.

"We'll have to be more careful this time." Gus replied, as he closed the door quietly behind him. "They could come back any minute."

"You keep watch." The psychic decided as walked over to a plaque on the wall. "I need to get another reading."

"Shawn," His friend groaned, rolling his brown eyes. "You know I know that you're not psychic."

"One must stay in character, Clark Clark." Shawn grinned, but the smile fell away as he stared at the tilted 'Most Dedicated' award on the wall.

"Whatever, Meriwether." Gus sighed, opening the door a crack so that he could see out. He didn't want them to have to sneak out again; the last time had been hard enough. Shawn practically being black-listed was making investigating way more difficult than it should be.

Meanwhile, his partner was still staring at the crooked plaque. Lifting it from the wall, he looked at it again. Something wasn't quite right, turning it over he spied a medium sized chip of wood missing from the back along with another large one. Turning around with the plaque still in hand, Shawn looked around the room.

'Where's the wood?' He silently wondered. Walking to the center of the room, he saw a small patch of unmatched timber near the very base of the desk. Crouching down, he picked it up from where it was wedged between the desk and the tilted chair's leg.

Gus glanced towards his friend and saw that he was studying something. As the man stood up, Gus asked, "What is it, Shawn?"

"The plaque he got last night…it's broken." Shawn mumbled as he held the previously missing piece up for Gus to see.

"That's weird. Maybe he dropped it, or something." Gus guessed as he glanced out the door again.

"All the way over here?" Shawn asked, pointing to the floor near the desk. "No…it must have been thrown before the chair was bumped."

"Did you only find one of the pieces?" His partner asked, pointing to the large empty space on the back of the award.

"Yeah only one. Someone must have missed this one when they were cleaning up because it was stuck between the chair and the desk." The fake psychic reasoned while he looked at the piece again.

"Someone threw the plaque, but cleaned up the pieces after the chair was bumped? If you're right, they were most likely here when Mathis died." Gus added, his voice louder than before as he turned away from the door.

"I'm always right, Gus." Shawn smirked cockily, before continuing his original thought process; "The murderer threw the plaque during an argument." Shawn stated as he set the wood and the award on the desk.

Crouching down, he studied the desk corner and the chair arm again. "Gus, go stand over there." He instructed, pointing to the empty place on the wall where the plaque had been moments before.

Shawn went to the left side of the desk, as opposed to the bloodied right, and stood a few feet in front of the corner. "Okay, pretend you just arrive and you're angry with me." He ordered his friend, despite the strange looks he received in return.

"Why?"

"I think I know what happened." Shawn beamed in response. When Gus still didn't do anything he sighed. "Just do it, Gus, or I really will start calling you Burton 'Twinkle toes' Guster, all the time."

"Fine." He huffily agreed, crossing his arms, "Uh…I hate you…this is really stupid."

"Good start. I can really feel the rage." The psychic teased good naturedly, "Come on, please! It's for the case, man."

"I can't believe you! This is ridiculous!" Gus raged as loudly as he dared, drawing off his own annoyance and discomfort to pull it off.

"Better. Hello mysterious murder, what can I do for you?" Shawn inquired from his place beside the desk. "Act like you're throwing the plaque at me." He added, and when Gus did, the fake psychic ducked in an effort to evade the imaginary award.

He placed his right hand on the desk, carefully avoiding the picture of Rick and his family. As he fell backwards slowly, he held onto the wood for support. He hit the chair lightly, making it nudge the desk. He then turned slightly as if trying to break the fall, only to stop right before his right temple would have hit the left corner of the desk.

"Shawn?" Gus asked, as he watched his friend sit down on the floor next to the desk.

"The bullet was used to cover up the real cause of death." Shawn announced as he stood up. "Rick Mathis hit his head accidentally during an argument, and died."

"Whoever killed him probably didn't mean too." Gus realized, his eyes going wide.

"Probably not." The psychic agreed, "The other person in this room when he died made it look like a suicide so that they would not be suspected."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know yet…" Shawn stated as he fixed the chair. Putting the piece of wood back where it was, he went over to the empty space on the wall with the award in hand. "I just know that whoever threw this plaque killed Professor Mathis."

"The spirits are telling me that you have a vision coming." His friend announced, watching while he placed the plaque back where it belonged.

"We better go find Lassie and Jules, then." Shawn smirked and opened the door for his partner. Once Gus was out, he followed and closed the door.

Walking across the building, they found the two detectives outside Westen's office. They were bringing another officer up to speed when Shawn and Gus reached hearing distance.

"According to the autopsy, Mathis most likely died around eleven pm last night." Carlton informed the young officer.

"It's terrible that he died on his twentieth anniversary." Juliet sighed, her thoughts not exactly in sync with her partners. "He probably didn't even get to see his wife."

"Shawn's having a—" Gus tried to tell them, but another voice interrupted him.

"A great day!" He smiled, throwing an arm around Gus's shoulder. "We'll be right back." He grinned again at the trio's shocked and confused faces before he began to pull Gus away.

"What?" Gus gaped as Shawn hauled him away, "What're you doing?"

"It finally clicked." Shawn whispered, "I know who did it."

"Who?" Gus asked in a hurried whisper as his friend steered him towards a very familiar classroom once again. Gus wasn't really sure why Shawn was taking him there, but the idea made his stomach churn

"Jenifer Mathis killed her husband accidentally last night, and she tried to cover it up." The psychic proclaimed, his hand on the History classroom doorknob. He had to give her a chance; he couldn't just turn her in without mercy. She was his seventh grade English teacher's wife after all.

"Shawn! We can't go in there!" Gus cried, "We have to go tell Lassiter."

"I have to give her a chance to turn herself in." Shawn whispered as he opened the door to the semi-lit room.

"Shawn!" Gus whispered harshly to his friends retreating back. "Shawn, you can't be serious."

"Gus," He turned around slightly looking at his friend, "I have to."

The determination in his best friend's eyes drove Gus to enter the room, a second later he was almost bowled over by an extremely agitated Bridger.

"Spencer," He growled, turning back to the pair to give them a view of his now soggy shirt, "I _will_ get you for this." He swore before he stalked out of the room and slammed the door.

Shawn surveyed the room and saw, Mrs. Mathis wiping a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry about him, Mrs. Mathis. How are you feeling?" He asked taking a few steps closer to the front of the room where she was sitting at the professor's desk.

It was very similar to her husband's desk except that it lacked the personal touches that he had on his. The only non-paper item on the entire desk was a decorative medieval knife displayed at the very front.

She smiled slightly when she saw Shawn and said, "I actually calmed down a long time ago, but Mr. Bridger was one of the _rudest_ men I have ever met." She stood up from her chair and continued; "I decided that if my crying made him uncomfortable, he deserved to be that way."

"I agree _completely_." Gus voiced from the back of the room where he was still standing by the door.

"So do I, Mrs. Mathis." Shawn smiled, having a hard time believing that the woman in front of him was a murderer.

"Is it time to go to the station now?" She asked, dabbing her blue eyes with a tissue, in an effort to dry them.

"No, actually." Shawn informed her as he took a small step forward. "My partner and I would like to ask you a few questions first."

"Oh." She replied with a watery smile, "What kind of questions?"

"One's concerning the murder of your husband, Mrs. Mathis." Gus responded, also taking a small step forward.

"I thought that was why I was going to the station?" Jenifer asked, her eyes growing suspicious. They both seemed like nice guys, but something wasn't quite right. They knew something, or thought they knew something that wouldn't be good for her.

"Our questions are slightly different." The psychic informed her, trying to keep off the subject as long as possible. He wanted to confront her, but he knew this could turn out bad.

"Okay, ask away then." She smiled again, but this time it seemed forced. She knew something unpleasant was coming.

"Did you accidentally kill your husband, Jenifer Mathis?" Gus inquired, and both he and Shawn watched as her body tensed and her slightly hysterical eyes grew wide. This definitely could turn out bad.

**TBC**

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**Author's Note: **Please review!


	8. Letter Openers

**Title:** A Job to Die for

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Mystery/Humor

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything you recognize.

**Author's Note:** Last full chapter :D

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**Chapter 8- Letter Openers: Useful Tools or Deadly Weapons?**

"No, of-of course not." She stuttered, her eyes filling with tears again. "I would never…I'm not…I could never do something like that."

"You got angry when he forgot about your anniversary on Friday. You two were suppose to do something together after the award ceremony, but he completely forgot." Shawn told her, softly.

"He always forgot things like that." She informed him, "I wouldn't kill him for it." She sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "I'm not a monster."

"We never said you were Mrs. Mathis. We know it was an accident." Gus soothed, taking another step closer.

"I didn't kill him!" She wailed, holding her hands over her ears so she didn't have to hear their words.

"You threw the plaque at him when he didn't realize why you were there." Shawn continued, his voice even, "He ducked and stumbled backwards hitting the chair. The plaque hit the edge of the desk and chipped while he tried to catch himself and ending up hitting his temple on the corner."

"No." She whispered fiercely, tears running down her face as she tried not to listen to them.

"You tried to revive him, but it didn't work. When you found out he was really dead, you looked up and saw the picture of your kids on the desk." Shawn supplied as he remembered the family picture, "You couldn't leave them parentless. You had to make it look like a suicide."

She began to shake with despair and rage as they talked; she grabbed her hair with one hand and held onto it for dear life. She started whispering "No…no…no, no, no no no no." With increasing quickness until it was a continued mantra of denial.

"You knew you needed a way to hide the wound on his head, so you went home and got his gun." Gus added, catching on to exactly what happened. He watched as she seemed to tense even farther. Her body didn't seem like it could take any more stress as she shook, with her eyes tightly closed.

"You came back and picked up the plaque, but you missed a piece." Shawn explained as he looked towards the letter opener by her hand. "You took the gun, and—"

"NO!" She screamed and at the same time her eyes popped open. Then her hand grabbed the letter opener, which she began to brandish around the room. "I didn't mean to kill him."

"Gus, go get Lassiter." Shawn mumbled out the side of his mouth. The replica knife letter opener, although not as dangerous as a real knife, could still do some damage, and Shawn would have preferred that damage not be done to his body.

"I can't go to jail!" She screamed, the object pointed towards Shawn's chest. Luckily he was at least three feet away, but truth be told that didn't make him feel any better.

"I won't leave you in here with her." Gus whispered back as he tried to pull Shawn with him towards the door, but any movement Shawn made she followed with the letter opener.

"You figured it out." She whispered taking a step closer to the psychic, her voice harsh and gravely with anger. "You ruined it all. I could have kept my family safe if it wasn't for you."

"Go, Gus." Shawn ground out, his hands raised in surrender once again, "Go! Now!"

Gus backed up towards the door, his eyes still on Jenifer Mathis and her makeshift weapon. He would go and get Lassiter, and be right back to help Shawn. Either that or he'd be too late and they'd come back to find Shawn with a letter opener in his chest. With that thought, he pulled open the door and rushed out, praying to any force that would listen for his friend to be okay.

Shawn heard Gus leave the room, and focused his attention back on Jenifer. "You didn't mean to kill him, I know that. I understand."

"You don't understand!" She screamed, her eyes shining and her face pale. Suddenly, she took a step forward and slashed at him missing by an inch or two as he backed up, "You. Don't. Under. Stand!" She slashed the air in front of him again, but when she saw a thin line of blood appear on his upper arm she blanched, nearly dropping the blade.

Shawn grimaced and grabbed his left arm with his right hand. He could feel the warm blood seeping out of his arm, and it didn't feel pleasant. He looked at his arm for a second, marveling at the stinging pain that erupted from it, before his gaze shifted back to her.

She was shaking even harder now as she stared at the blood on the letter opener. There wasn't a lot of it, but the mere sight of it seemed to turn her stomach.

"Jenifer?" He asked, his voice soft, "It's okay, Jenifer. I'm fine. Just put the knife down."

"I did it again." She cried, her body finally seeming to let loose. "I've hurt someone else again."

"It's just a scratch. I'm okay, I promise" Shawn reassured her, as he tried to step closer. Unfortunately, she brandish the letter opener again, holding him at bay. The cut on his arm was quite a bit more than a scratch, and it had been sheer luck that she had got him. If he let her get too close, he just might become a human Shiskabob.

"But Rick isn't." She scowled, her face turning into a mask of fury. "Do you want to know why?" She asked, not even waiting for an answer, "Because I killed him. I did it. I made him hit his head."

"It was an accident." He responded, trying not to wince as his arm ached, "You didn't mean to, you would never do that to him on purpose."

"I killed my husband." Mrs. Mathis sobbed, and with her hand shaking she put the letter opener to her own neck. "I-I can't go to j-jail."

"Put the knife down, Jenifer. You didn't mean to, everything will work out okay."

"I…I killed him." She howled, the blade still against her throat, "I killed him and then made it look like a suicide. I couldn't just kill him, I had to disgrace him too." She whispered tears streaming down her face as her hands shook. Shawn worried that she would accidentally slit her own throat.

"You did it for your kids, Mrs. Mathis, and they are the reason you shouldn't do this."

"My kids?" She mumbled, her watery blue eyes clearing for the first time.

"Yes, your kids, they love you, and you love them." Shawn reasoned, as he internally crossed his fingers. Hopefully, he had finally gotten through to her.

"I do." Mrs. Mathis mumbled, her eyes bright with love for her children.

"Then don't do this, Rick wouldn't want you to do this, and neither do they." The psychic continued, hoping that she would calm down and not stab him in the eye because, honestly, that'd be really unpleasant.

"I love him." She sighed, tears running down her cheeks as she dropped the bloodied letter opener to the ground.

"He loves you too." He replied, a sad smile breaking through just as the door banged open.

"Spencer!" Lassiter called, his gun pointed at the crying woman. "Are you still alive?"

"What took you so long, Lassie? If I were in a well I might've died already." Shawn quipped, looking to Mrs. Mathis he whispered, "Tell them."

"Thank God, Shawn, you're okay!" Gus called from behind Lassiter who was taking up the entire doorway. "Are you hurt?"

Shawn was about to answer when Jenifer's small sounding voice spoke first.

"I killed my husband." She announced, looking detective Lassiter straight in the eye. "It was an accident."

**TBC**

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**Author's Note:** Please Review


	9. Just I'snt an Ending Wo Lawn Flamingos

**Title:** A Job to Die for

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** None

**Genre:** Myster/Humor

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognized

**Author's note:** Here's the last chapter, I hope you guys all enjoyed it! Please review

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**Chapter 9- What's an Ending Without Lawn Flamingos?**

Shawn slowly walked across the green grass; looking back he could see Gus watching him from the distance. Taking the few last steps towards his destination, he knelt down and looked at the hard stone in front of him.

_Rick Mathis_

_1955-2007_

_And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach._

Smiling, he placed a newspaper article against the cool grave marker next to a dozen purple roses that had been left by his children. The headline read, '**Professor's Wife Charged With Involuntary Manslaughter**'

It continued to say 'Mrs. Jenifer Mathis, of Santa Barbara California, was charged with Involuntary Manslaughter after the death of her husband, Mr. Richard Mathis. Due to the nature of the incident Mrs. Mathis was only sentenced to six months imprisonment and one year of community service accompanied by required therapy. Article Continued on Page 6."

"You were a great teacher, Mr. Mathis." Shawn whispered, with a pat on the grass, he stood up and was about to leave when a gust of wind blew the newspaper clipping harder against the gravestone. He smiled in response, "You're Welcome."

Looking back at the grave one last time, he started walking downhill and back towards Gus. After a few seconds, they met up and both started walking towards the car in silence. It was a peaceful silence that they both upheld until Gus was sliding into the driver's seat.

"Where are we going now?" Gus asked while he turned the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life.

"First, we need to head to Wal-Mart." Shawn informed him covertly.

"Why?" Gus asked even as he complied with Shawn's request. Adjusting his direction, he started moving towards the closest Wal-Mart.

"Then we need to go to Lassie's house." The psychic continued while he looked out the window.

"Oooooookay?" He responded, waiting for an explanation as he turned a corner and the store came into view.

"Wal-Mart does have Lawn Flamingos right?" Shawn questioned, turning to face his friend, and Gus knew exactly what he planned to do. They were going Flamingo-ing and a certain detective was at the top of their list.

_Fin_

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**Author's Note:** Please review and tell me what you think!


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